Toy Soldier
by Solo's Girl
Summary: Captain Napoleon Solo is off to Korea. Armed with his love of country, devotion to duty and the heart of one very special young woman, Maggie. Originally part of another story it has been reworked with addition material added for the Memorial Day Holiday.


**Authors note**: This was originally Chapter 2 of another story "Best Friends Forever" . I have reworked it adding additional material. If you have read my stories about "Naps" Solo and his friend "Mags" Maggie Richardson then you already know a little of their relationship. Hope you enjoy this reworking for Memorial Day.

**June 1951**

Maggie was shaking as she came closer to the podium. She glanced out across the crowd of people her eyes searching desperately for one face in particular. She paused a moment, rubbing her sweating palms together. Her legs wobbled slightly. She hated wearing heels.

"Margaret Elizabeth Richardson."

She heard her name called and walked across the vast expanse of the stage. The Dean took her hand giving it a congratulatory shake as his other sipped the rolled parchment into her free hand. She smiled and nodded at the man, took her diploma and walked down the opposite stairs.

It was the longest short walk she had ever taken.

The ceremony over she quickly found her parents, her father hugged her so tight she felt her breath catch in her throat. Her mother was crying as she hugged her. Maggie quickly looked around. A sad smile crossed her face.

"I have never been more proud of you," her father said.

"Neither have I," a deep velvety voice said behind her.

Maggie's eyes widened as she turn to see him. Her jaw dropped slightly.

Captain Napoleon Solo stood at ridged attention. His dress uniform a stark contrast to the business suites of the other men in attendance. White gloves, his hat tucked neatly beneath his arm, he smiled at her. For a moment Maggie just looked at him. Her hand reached up and brushed gently against the uniform.

"You always have to be the center of attention, don't you Naps?" she said a playful smile on her face.

Napoleon laughed and wrapped his arms around her hugging her. He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I thought you were going to fall over there for a minute," he said.

"So did I. Where were you watching from?"

"The corner of the bleachers," he replied, "I was running a bit late, but I made it just in time."

She handed her diploma to her mother and walked off with her handsome Marine.

For a moment they just strolled along, arm in arm across the rich green campus. Other uniformed men stopped and saluted as they walked by, Napoleon returning their salutes. They finally found a quite secluded spot away from everything. He looked at her.

Maggie got a strange twinge in the back of her neck. Her fingers softly squeezed his gloved hand.

"I, ah, had to get special permission to be here today," he finally said the words catching in his throat.

Her eyes began to tear up. Maggie bit down on her lip.

"Oh no, Napoleon," she said slowly, "When?"

"Four days..."

He put his arms around her as she began to cry. His hand gently stroking her hair and shoulders as he held her. She felt him press his cheek to her forehead.

Mister and Mrs. Richardson stood across the campus they could just see their daughter and Napoleon standing together, arms around each other.

"Do you think Napoleon and Maggie will get married one day?" Mrs. Richardson asked.

Her husband smiled.

"I think they like things just as they are now," Mr. Richardson replied, "They love each other to be sure, but I think they will always be just good friends."

"I know, but I still worry about their…well."

"Sleeping in the same bed together at their age," he said noticing the blush on his wife's cheek, "I know it's a bit unorthodox, but they are both adults. And I have spoken to them both about it. They have a tremendous amount of respect for one another. Napoleon may be a bit of a, well, scamp, but he assured me that Maggie has his top respect. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their friendship. "

Maggie and Napoleon walked back over to her parents. They could tell by the expression on their daughter's face that he wouldn't be around much longer.

Napoleon woke the next morning to the soft touch of her warm breath across his bare chest. He slowly reached up and rubbed his hand over his tired eyes. A smile crossed his face as he saw Maggie pressed close to him, her face tenderly pressed to his shoulder, one arm draped over his body. She looked so peaceful laying there in his pajama top. He gave the sleeve a playful tug.

She yawned and pulled her arm back slightly. Maggie looked at him and smiled sleepily.

"Good morning," she said yawning again.

"Am I really that exciting first thing in the morning?" he asked sarcastically.

"And last thing at night, sometimes after noon, anytime during the evening and on days ending in a "Y"."

Napoleon smiled and made a half hearted laugh. He tugged once more on the pajama sleeve.

"Next time you wear the bottoms and I'll wear the top then," he said.

"Okay," Maggie said.

She began to unbutton the shirt. Napoleon's eyes widened and he took hold of her hand. She giggled.

"What are you afraid of Napoleon?" she asked, "You've seen me naked when there was nothing there..."

Solo smiled slyly and taking the shirt front pulled it out and pretended to look.

"And nothing has changed apparently!" he said.

Maggie slapped his hand and threw herself on top of him. Her fingers dug into his sides, throwing him into fits of laughter. They both rolled all over the bed tickling and grabbing at one another.

He pinned her down on the bed, his body perched precariously over her. Despite his best efforts, Napoleon's body betrayed his thoughts. What he wouldn't give to slip from their playful hold into her warm and loving embrace. Their bodies together in the passion of the love they held so dear. His body ached to take her to the heights as yet unknown between them. He leaned down and kissed her. It was all he could do. He treasured what they had too much. His tender love making to her would have to remain in his dreams.

Maggie felt it too. How many times had she dreamt of having him in her bed? Not as her childhood friend but as the rich passionate lover she knew he could be. Many a night she had awaken, her breath coming in hard pants, her body soaked in sweat as she imagined him calling her name over and over again. She felt her cheeks blush with fire.

"Ah, Napoleon….."

"I know….I know…."

He sat back off to the side, his back to her as he tried to conceal his body from her. Maggie was having the same problem her body. She tried to pull the shirt closed; finding it a bit tighter now then had been before.

Solo slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. This gave her time to retreat back to her own room. They both sat in their respective hiding places for several minutes. Both contemplating what had happened, both wondering if would have been so wrong to act on their feelings. Both felt tears in their eyes.

**Later that afternoon…..**

Maggie drove him back to the base. They held one another close and exchanged a long kiss good-bye.

"Be careful, Napoleon," she said the words breaking, "I'll write to you…Please…don't get hurt…"

"I promise," he said, pressing his cheek to hers, "I love you Mags….Until I see you again…"

Napoleon held her face gently in his hands. He could feel her shaking, her tears streaming down her already red cheeks. He pulled her lips to his and kissed her once more, each savoring it as if it would be the last.

Maggie leaned against the hood of the car, her arms folded together, her hands rubbing against her trembling arms as she watched him return to the base. He stopped and looked back at her one last time. He blew her a kiss and disappeared into one of the buildings.

Two days later, Captain Solo was on his way to Korea.

Napoleon was a natural born leader. He had thirty-two men under his command, all loyal to their Captain. They would have followed him to hell and back. Little did they know that was exactly what they were going to do.

Pinned down in foxholes, up to their chins in mud, often spending days without a break in the shelling or firefights. He and his men were often cold, hungry but he pushed them on. Never letting them see the fear he was confining inside. They finally had a break, relief and a short but well deserved R & R. It was at this time that their mail caught up with them and they were ecstatic to receive it.

Napoleon showered, changed and found a quite place to enjoy his stack of letters and other surprises. He sorted everything separating his parent's notes from hers. He got the formalities of his parent's letters out of the way and dug into Maggie's with gusto.

He felt his chest tighten as he read how much he was missed. She playfully wrote seductive messages about waking up next to him and the last night they had spent together. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Another letter contained a photo of her in her bathing suit. She had ditched the old one piece she always wore and tried one of the new two piece bikinis. Solo felt his pulse race at the sight of her in the garment. He pressed it to his chest and sighed.

"I've had bandages with more fabric," he whispered aloud, looking once more at the photo.

More letters, more photos and two small boxes with extra razor blades, soap, candy bars and more little notes and things from home. The photos he secured in his shirt pocket, the other items in his ditty bag.

The break over, Napoleon and his squadron returned to the war. Often they were close to the front lines and the heavy fighting. Some minor injuries but he kept his men in check. He went into this with thirty-two and he was determined to come out of it with thirty-two.

Maggie held each of his letters as if they were written in pure gold. Sometimes splattered with mud, or even a small drop of blood, a few, the ink smudged from tears. He told her he was being as careful as possible. A few nicks here and there but nothing serious. They had fought long and hard, but the news of the peace talks gave them a sense of hope and her endless parade of letters renewed his spirit as well as his strength. He still carried the bikini photo close to his heart and couldn't wait for the day he could see her in it in person.

The fighting was hard, days, weeks without a break. He heard stories of what happened to American and Allied prisoners. Torture, beatings in an effort to get them to talk, all manner of atrocities had been reported. Some men lost a limb, some their minds, others held tough and refused to break in spite of the cruelties inflicted on them.

Two of Napoleon's best friends had been killed in a firebombing. Another had starved to death, refusing to give any information to the enemy. Napoleon had felt a chill run down his back when they told him of his friends bravery and how when the GIs found him he had written the words "I Won" in his own blood on the wall of his prison.

Stories like these made Napoleon more determined than ever to protect the men in his command, no matter the cost. To preserve the memories of his friends who had been lost and to make sure they had not died in vain.

**December 1952,**

Napoleon's platoon had had a rough go the past two months. Heavy fighting, a few of his men had been injured but after a patch up at the MASH and a few days to rest they returned to their unit. Serving under Captain Solo was a honor and they worked as hard to protect him as he did to protect them.

It was a week before Christmas. Napoleon called his men together and gave them some good news for a change. Another unit was on the way to relieve them and would be there in a few days. Then it was on to a few days of rest during the holiday. The men were ecstatic. They cheered and shook hands, patted one another on the back and generally felt good inside again.

A few days passed.

Everything was quiet. Napoleon's platoon held steady and waited. A helicopter flying over had radioed down to them no sign of enemy soldiers in the area. They had drawn back.

The new platoon had arrived and it was with great relief to hand over the small piece of land. Napoleon filled the new captain in on what they had and that it had been quiet for the last few days after the enemy retreat. The two men exchanged wishes for the holiday.

Napoleon's men picked up their gear and followed him out. Half a mile away, a truck was waiting to pick them up and take them off to a well deserved rest. But as they came around the clearing the all too familiar whine of a mortar shell sent them back into the roadside ditch.

The shell landed only about twenty yards away, nearly taking out the truck. Another went over them and they heard it hit somewhere behind them. One of the men crawled quickly to Solo.

"Captain!" he shouted over the sounds of exploding shells, "I think the other platoon was just hit."

Napoleon grabbed his binoculars and looked back towards their relief. Smoke was rising from the area and he saw the men scrambling for shelter. There was another blast near them and Solo saw bodies thrown into the air. He flagged down the truck driver.

"We're going back to get them," he shouted to the driver, "Radio for help and for the nearest aid station to be ready to receive…."

Another explosion rocked the truck slightly. Napoleon shook his head and smiled at the driver.

"Remember….If it gets scratched, it comes out of your pay," Solo said giving the scared man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Napoleon rallied his men and ignoring the barrage of shells, they quickly went back to get the wounded.

All of the remaining soldiers were gathered and taken back to the truck. Burns, cuts, broken bones tended to by his own men, Solo was climbing into the truck when he saw another injured man, a private, stumbling to get to them. He was using his rifle for support but his injuries were getting the best of him.

Napoleon banged on the tailgate for the driver to wait and jumped from the truck to retrieve the injured man. He caught up with him and draped the man's arm over his shoulder. The injured private cried out in pain. Seeing that this wasn't going to work, Napoleon scooped him up in his arms and took off towards the truck.

Another shell whirled overhead and landed behind them. Napoleon felt the blast and went down, still holding tight to the other soldier. He was one his knees and felt a sharp searing pain in the back of his thigh. He managed to get back to his feet, ignoring the burning and made it to the truck.

The men took the wounded private into the truck then they reached out at helped Napoleon inside. The truck pulled off with astonishing speed. One of the men looked down at the body laying face down in the floor.

"Captain Solo, are you alright?" he ask.

Solo's eyes blinked a few times. The pain in his thigh was unbelievable. His hand struggled to reach back and see if he could feel what the problem was. He felt a bone protruding from his blooded thigh just near his hip. His finger had barely touched it when an electrical bolt of pain shot through him. His hand dropped to the floor.

**Christmas Eve.**

Napoleon awoke to the sounds of Christmas carols be sung. He smiled. The songs brought back wonderful memories, sitting around the fire, popcorn, roasting marshmallows and chestnuts. He thought about Mags and how her family always made fireplace toast with hot melted butter. He licked his dry lips and tried to lift his head.

"Hey guys," a voice called out, "The Captain's awake. Merry Christmas, Sir."

Napoleon heard the faint sounds as other wishes were sent his way. One of the nurses knelt down next to him and he saw her smile.

"Merry Christmas, Captain," she said a she gently slipped a thermometer into his mouth, "Just hold this in your mouth." She took his wrist and looked at her watch.

"Pulse is a little fast," she said making a note on his chart.

The men laughed.

"That's because he only just met you," one of the men said.

They all burst out into fits of laughter. The nurse even laughed softly when she noticed the blush on Napoleon cheek. She removed the thermometer.

"Slight temperature, but that's most just likely a post-operative condition," she said, "Rest is what you need now."

Napoleon nodded.

After a few hours he was feeling better but still not able to roll over on his back. His thigh was burning still and even the morphine was only helping a little. One of the doctors walked over and sat on the empty cot next to him.

"You're a very lucky man, Captain," he said holding up a x-ray and taking another look, "You see this protruding bone?"

"How could I walk…with that…or did that happen after I got bac…," the words caught in his dry mouth.

"It wasn't yours," the doctor said, "It must have belonged to one of the dismembered bodies lying behind you. If you had moved much further it might have gone another inch and a half it and severed the artery."

Napoleon closed his eyes and took a deep shaky breath.

"How is the Private doing?" he asked.

Two of Napoleon's men sitting nearby smiled and shook their heads. That was their Captain, always worried about everyone else.

"He is over there," the doctor said pointing across the ward, "Doing just fine. Thanks to you."

The lower ranking man saw his rescuer looking in his direction and saluted. Napoleon smiled weakly and returned the salute.

The next day, Napoleon was able to lay on his good side. He carefully opened his mail and smiled at the cards and letters from his family and Mags. She had sent him a box of homemade fudge, which he shared with his men. She enclosed two pictures for him.

The first was her sitting on Santa's lap at Macys. She was holding his picture at an angle so the camera caught it and Santa could see it as well. On the back she had written "I told him this was all I wanted for Christmas. Be safe. Love Mags."

The second Napoleon stared at for a long while. His fingers gently stroked the photo and he fought to hold back his emotions. It was a photo of Mags in front of the fireplace, stockings hung on the mantel and a very majestic looking tree in the background. She had her long dark hair pulled to the side with a bow and her prettiest sweater with lace trim on. She smiled bravely for the camera, but Napoleon could always tell when she had been crying. On the back she had written "With all my heart. With all my Love. Mags"

**July 1953..**

Solo's squad was running out of ammunition fast. Their supplies had been shelled and blown out of existence and though more were on the way it was a hopeless cause. Where they had the enemy out manned, the North Korean squad had them out gunned.

It was getting dark. Napoleon held a quick conference with his second in command. The men saw a panicked looked on the other man's face as Captain Solo gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It quickly spread down the line.

Solo was going to surrender himself and allow himself to be taken prisoner so they could draw back far enough to regroup, get their supplies and return. Several protested, not wanted to leave him behind, but it was his last order to them.

They could hear the shouts of the Korean soldiers. They saw Solo toss his gun to the ground, raising his hands in the air and placing them on his head. He was quickly knocked to his knees and dragged away.

For nearly an hour the men lay motionless, listening for any sounds of enemy troops. Finally they were told to leave the area. A few miles away they caught up with their supplies and called for two more platoons to meet them in a rescue attempt.

Two days. Napoleon had been beaten to unconsciousness several times. His body whipped, pierced with fire heated bayonets. He was cursed at in Korean, spat on, hung up by his feet for hours. But the Captain gave them no information. No hint of information.

He was stripped down to his underwear, which in a way was a blessing as the July heat was sweltering. A hard bench nearby became his resting place. Arms and legs pulled back and beneath him tightly, he felt a twinge as his muscles rebelled at the restraints.

Napoleon felt a hand on his forehead, holding his head steady as a thick leather chin strap was put into place. This would prevent him from trying to turn his face. He heard several of the Korean soldiers laugh and felt the slow drip of rancid water on his forehead.

With his body restrained and his arms pulled back in this manner, the scar around his left shoulder was pulled and turned a light pink compared to his other skin tone. He had nearly lost that arm in a motorcycle accident many years before, but the scar was now the only reminder of the trauma. One of the soldiers saw the scar.

"그의 어깨를 봐. 그는 다시 주위에 모든 방법을는 흉터가 있다." (Look at his shoulder. He has a scar that goes all the way around to the back.), one of the men said smiling.

"하! 관대 한 미국인입니다. 점선 따라 컷!" (Ha! Generous American. Cut along dotted line)

The other soldiers began to laugh. One of the higher ranking men leaned down over Solo.

Napoleon felt his stomach turn. The man's breath was repulsive, and reminded him of the smell of the brothel his men had raided a few months back. His body and uniform reeked of blood and other bodily fluids, mixed with cheap alcohol and sweat. He pulled his brown cap low on his brow and leaned closer still to the young American.

"같은 꽤 미국 소년에 대 한 매우 어려운 위치에 있습니다." (You are in a very difficult position, for such a pretty American boy) he said, smiling, his teeth as repulsive as the rest of his continence.

Napoleon felt his flesh twitch as the disgusting soldier ran his hand down his chest and brushed across the front of his skivvies. Napoleon closed his eyes momentarily and tried to imagine he was anywhere else but where he was. He felt his cheeks slapped and opened his eyes to see a red hot bayonet hovering near him. He felt the heat as it moved closer to his abdomen.

"저희가 예쁜이 후 됩니다를 참조합니다." (Let us see how pretty you will be after this).

Napoleon felt the heated metal dig into his flesh. He tried to hold back his cries of pain, his face twisted in agony as the blade edge cut a swath about eight inches long across his belly. His body bucked slightly at the pain only to feel the pull of the restraints. He could hear the uproarious laughter of the soldiers holding him captive.

The door of the tiny shack flew open and a man of obviously higher rank ran in. He was shouting frantically and waving his arms about. A look of panic crossed the faces of the other soldiers. They began to quickly gather their equipment and rifles, falling over one another in their fit of hysteria. They headed for the door when one turned back and started walking towards Napoleon. He stopped and took aim.

A voice outside shouted at him.

"그를 잊지! 3 편대 중무장 한 미국 군대의도를 오고 있습니다. 지금 여기의 지옥!" (Forget him! Three squadrons of heavily armed American troops are coming up the road. Get the hell out of here now!)

The first of the massive explosions rocked the shack, throwing the Korean soldier to his knees. He scrambled to his feet and ran as quickly as he could thru the door. Another explosion, then another followed close behind.

Napoleon tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. He felt like he was going to choke. Even the stagnant water that continued to torture him would have been relief to his parched and bleeding mouth.

He was going to die. Alone.

He wondered if Maggie would ever know what had happened to him. He had broken his promise to her and he wondered if she would understand why. His thoughts moved to his men. Had they made it back to safety? Once more he took a breath and felt the insides of his mouth stick together. He listened to the sounds of the battle outside, the gunfire the shelling the cries of pain.

Another explosion and a section of the shacks roof fell in. He could see the yellow-orange of the morning sky. Streaks of deep purple stretching through, a few die-hard stars beginning to fade.

Napoleon heard a crash near his head and could no longer feel the water dripping. He felt someone cut the restraints and someone took hold of him, quickly but carefully lifting him from the bench. Another explosion brought the rest of the shack down on the American and his rescuer. Napoleon was in agony but managed to move one arm towards his torn and bloodied shirt lying nearby. The man with him smiled.

"I have to say Captain Solo," Lieutenant Stevens said, "For a soldier, you sense of modesty is overwhelming."

He laughed and handed his Captain the shirt. And his precious photo tucked safely in the pocket.

**August 1953.**

Her handsome soldier stepped thru the gate into the air terminal. Maggie made a small gasp as she saw him.

"Napoleon!" she shouted over the crowd, "Napoleon!"

He could see her hand waving and pushing his way thru the crowd of soldiers and families made a bee line to his friend. They grabbed one another in a bear-hug to end all. He swept her up in his arms, spinning a few times. They kissed one another. Solo stood her back on the floor his hands gently holding the sides of her tear streaked face.

"I can't believe it's really you," he said, kissing her cheek once more, "I have really missed you Mags."

She began to cry and threw her arms around his neck. Maggie planted a warm hard kiss to his lips and Solo savored it. The young woman stepped back and looked at him once more. Her fingers brushed against the metals pinned to his uniform.

The Purple Heart, Bronze Star, Silver Star, Korean Service and the United Nations Service Medals all hung majestically on his uniform. She looked up at him and smiled.

Napoleon suddenly snapped to attention. His superior officer was approaching with another man. The young Captain snapped off a salute that was returned by both men.

"Captain Solo," the CO said, "I wanted to say good-bye and what a pleasure it was to have you in my outfit. A true credit to the Corp, young man. I also have someone here who would like to talk to you about your future."

Napoleon took the other man's hand giving it a firm shake.

"Captain Napoleon Solo, this is Mr. Alexander Waverly."

Waverly smiled at the man's grip. He looked at the CO.

The Colonel snapped another salute at Napoleon, one graciously returned and walked away. Solo looked back at the elder man who had begun talking to Maggie.

Something in his gut told him his life was about to get more exciting than he ever thought possible.

But at this precise moment, it couldn't get any more exciting than this.

The Manhattan skyline through the airport windows.

The smells of hot pizza and pretzels.

And Maggie's beautiful smile.


End file.
